


Terms and Conditions

by TheDarknessFactor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers team - Freeform, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Prompt Fill, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did they like it?” Bruce asks, as soon as she opens the door.</p>
<p>She kisses his cheek before she moves to her own (tiny) kitchen to put the dish away.  “Of course they liked it, you’re the one who made it.”  She shoots him a grin.  “Thanks, Vanessa.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms and Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: "what about brucenat + secret relationship? (maybe the team finding out about it?)"
> 
> It was a lot of fun to write. Also, I find it rather cavity-inducing. But hey, not everything could be angst.

It’s been wordlessly established that Sam’s townhouse is the central hub for all Avengers social gatherings.  Natasha doesn’t bother to ring the doorbell, partially because no one else does and also partially because her hands are full of a dish of blueberry cobbler.  She should probably be more worried about the security implied in being able to just walk through Sam’s front door, but she’s too busy being hungry to care at the moment.

Steve has never looked more like a harried mother of four than he does right now, directing the other Avengers around Sam’s kitchen with the same efficiency that he uses on the battlefield.  Natasha saunters in and puts the cobbler on the counter, next to what looks like shepherd’s pie.  Wanda is humming along to the radio playing softly in the background, ignoring Sam and Rhodey’s argument about garlic.  Steve, when he’s not superhero wrangling, is teaching Vision the finer points of making corn chowder.

Natasha can’t quite stop her grin at the sight.

Sam is the first to notice her.  “Natasha, hey,” he says, pulling her in for a hug.  “I see you brought cobbler.  A woman after my own heart.”

She winks at him.  “Baked it myself.”

“Ha,” deadpans Steve.

“Shut up, Rogers.”

Rhodey leans against the kitchen table, folding his arms.  “Every time we hear about this mysterious neighbor who keeps baking you things I get more curious.  You sure they’re just a little old lady who likes to bake things for her neighbors all the time?”

Natasha shrugs lightly, but smirks.  “Hey now, Vanessa is probably the nicest person I know.  A lot nicer than any of you jerks.”

Sam reels backwards and clutches at his chest, gasping in mock pain.  Wanda laughs, a long, open laugh that has Vision staring at her for just a moment too long.  She passes the chopped onion over to Steve before joining Natasha, Sam and Rhodey in conversation.

“We’re the jerks you hang out with and eat all our food,” Steve points out.

“It’s good food.  Company’s okay, I guess.”

Wanda tries to poke her in the side, but Natasha evades, snickering.  Dinner preparation carries on that way, with the six of them moving comfortably around one another.  They’re in good spirits today - the one mission they had this week was an undeniable success, and it’s left them all high on its euphoria.  Natasha can’t deny that she’s been walking with a spring in her step.  It’s easier to be more loose, to let her body tell the truth, than it used to be.

Dinner is wonderful, and everyone tells Natasha to send their compliments to Vanessa.  They end up playing Sam’s ancient copy of Clue for the rest of the evening, with Wanda entertaining them by making up elaborate stories about each murder mystery.  It’s over all too soon, and they go their separate ways a few hours later, all having enjoyed some of the wine that Sam pulled out.  She makes a commitment to go over strategy with Steve in the morning and to give Wanda more one-on-one hand-to-hand sessions this week before she takes her leave.

Natasha’s apartment is about an hour’s ride from Sam’s place, but it’s closer to the facility, above a little diner in the town nearby.  By the time she gets back most of the locals have already retired for the night, and aside from a few kids making a ruckus in one of the alleys, Main Street is deserted.  It’s small enough that Natasha doesn’t really get visitors, though it isn’t cramped.

“Did they like it?” Bruce asks, as soon as she opens the door.

She kisses his cheek before she moves to her own (tiny) kitchen to put the dish away.  “Of course they liked it, you’re the one who made it.”  She shoots him a grin.  “Thanks, Vanessa.”

“Y’know, I could probably pull off little old lady if I needed to.”

Natasha gets a mental picture of Bruce wearing a pink, flower dress and bearing a cane and can’t quite help the undignified snort that comes out of her mouth.

“Um…”  She pushes him gently onto the couch, lying down, and then spreads herself out on top of him, letting her weight sag.  “There is something you should know…”

“Did you grow something in our toilet again?”

“That was - I didn’t know that the yeast would react that way to the -”

“It was _moving_.”

Bruce rolls his eyes.  Natasha turns her head so that her chin is resting on his chest and stares at him expectantly.  It’s usually the stare that does him in.  That, plus waiting without saying anything.  He stares back at her before letting his head fall back against the couch arm.

“I almost ran into Steve in town today,” he admits.

Natasha stays quiet, waiting for him to continue.  

“I actually debated risking it, just going past him and hoping that he didn’t notice me.  But I - I still can’t.  So I hid behind a dumpster while he headed towards the grocery store.  I wanted to stop him, Nat, but I.  It’s hard.”

Privately, Natasha thinks that the fact that he’s so willing to tell her about this is a sign that he’s growing _more_ open, not less, but she keeps that to herself for now.  For now, she reaches out with a hand, running her thumb over his cheekbone.

“You can’t hide with me forever,” she murmurs.

She knows that it’s not what she says, but rather the way she says it - with unbearable gentleness, with complete and utter understanding - that hurts him.  She doesn’t look away from him as he takes a shuddering breath under her weight.  He grabs her hand and interlaces their fingers, his gaze shifting from pained to accepting.  Satisfied, Natasha lays her head on her cheek again.

Most of the time, they’re content to stay in such a position for hours.  They’ve mastered the art of cuddle piles and all other positions that involve the two of them just lying there like sloths, but it’s late and Natasha has to be up early tomorrow.  Ordinarily while in bed, someone’s arm ends up wrapped around the other, but tonight they lie back-to-back, happy just for the solid reassurance that they aren’t alone.

Such is their way of life.  Natasha loves it.

* * *

There are missions that could be catastrophic but aren’t, and then there are missions that seem like small kittens at first glance and end up being giant-ass tigers instead.

Case in point: Wanda is hit with some kind of drug in the middle of it all.  Natasha guts the man responsible and shoots three others, but then it’s all she can do to protect her hyperventilating protege from the mercenaries trying to kill the pair of them.  

“If anyone can make it to our position, it would be much appreciated!” Natasha yells into the comm for what must be the fifth time.  

Right on cue, Rhodey bursts into the room in his suit, following shortly after by Vision, and the three of them make short work of the other thugs.  Once the building is secure, Natasha kneels in front of Wanda, who is shaking violently and staring at nothing.

“Wanda,” she says.  “Wanda.  I need you to look at me.”

Wanda’s eyes snap to hers, and there’s the faintest flicker of recognition.

“Good.”  Natasha keeps her voice as soothing as possible.  “You can hear me.  That’s good.  Now I need you to listen: when I count to four, inhale.  When I count to four again, exhale.  One, two…”

The other woman doesn’t respond at first, but eventually she catches on, and her breathing slowly comes back under control.  There are tears streaming down her cheeks now, but she starts counting along with Natasha, her voice shaking as much as her body.  

Natasha helps her to the quinjet.  Wanda clutches her hand in a white-knuckled grip for the duration of the trip, and refuses to release her even when they get to the facility.  The medics diagnose her with a hallucinogenic, but it’s not life-threatening and they inform the other Avengers that there isn’t much more to be done except wait it out.

Natasha will be damned before she leaves Wanda alone in the infirmary to recover.

Which is how she ends up in her car with a white-faced Wanda in the passenger seat.  She can’t call Bruce to forewarn him - they have a rule about phone calls - and she’s not sure that Wanda would even understand if she told her.  She can only hope that Bruce’s anger over what was done to him has faded.

Wanda is glassy-eyed by the time they reach Natasha’s apartment.  Bruce isn’t anywhere in sight, so he must be out somewhere.  She silently apologizes to him, then goes into the kitchen and starts making a cup of decaf earl grey.  Wanda takes it with trembling hands.

“T-thank you,” she manages to get out.  “For this.  I know you do not like people in your space.”

“I’ve done my fair share of hallucinogenic interrogative drugs,” Natasha tells her.  “I know that they’re hell.  I wouldn’t wish that on you.”

Wanda breathes out.  “It took all I had not to just let go,” she says.  “But I would have hurt you.  I could not.”

Natasha opens her mouth to answer, but then the key jiggles in the lock and Bruce steps through the door, his eyes flying to Wanda in surprise.  The hand holding the keys falls to his side as he takes in the scene before him, then he slowly closes and locks the door.

Wanda blinks once, like she doesn’t understand.

“I didn’t know we were having guests,” Bruce says, but there’s no anger in his voice, just exhaustion.  He walks over to the couch, making Wanda tense up, but all he does is crouch in front of her.  “Are you alright?”

Startled, Wanda nods.  Bruce nods back, apparently satisfied.  He brushes his fingers lightly against Natasha’s before heading into the kitchen.

The silence after that is a bit awkward.  There’s a rustling of pots that means that Bruce is making something for dinner, but Wanda is fidgeting with her hands.  Natasha thrives on awkward silences; it’s a relief, of sorts, that someone finally knows.

“Vanessa’s not as old as I pictured her,” Wanda finally comments.

“Thanks?  I think?” Bruce calls.

Natasha chuckles.  “I took his propensity for baking and built a believable character around it.  It was fun when Bruce and I sat down and fleshed out all the details.  Did you know that Vanessa has three grandchildren, but she never sees them because her son is estranged?”

“That seems unnecessarily sad,” Wanda says.  She sips her tea.  “I will not tell, you know.  This is not my secret to give.”

“Thank you.”

Wanda looks around her for the first time, taking in the little mix of Bruce and Natasha in the apartment - minimal objects of sentiment, but a small collection of books belonging to Bruce on one side of the room and a gym bag that belongs to Natasha on the floor near the door.  “You’re happy?”

Natasha thinks about the peace that has come over her in the last few months, and the vibrant joy that comes with cherishing another person.

“Yeah,” is all she says.

* * *

Wanda’s exhaustion hits her fairly quickly after she finishes her tea, and she falls asleep on the couch.  Natasha drapes a blanket over her before going to help Bruce with the dishes in the kitchen.  They work in companionable silence, scrubbing the pots he used to make curry and brushing elbows.

“What happened?” Bruce eventually asks.

“She got hit with a hallucinogenic.”

He grimaces in sympathy.  Natasha, suddenly seized by a mixture of pride and love, takes his face in her hands and kisses him hard.  When they pull apart, he has something of a dopey look on his face.

“Not that I’m complaining, but…”

“You’re the best,” she tells him.

He ducks his head, smiling.  Natasha isn’t quite ready to let go, so they stand like that for a few minutes, eventually letting their foreheads fall together.  

“It’s a little funny, actually,” Bruce says.  “That you brought her here today.  Earlier, I was thinking that… maybe it’s time.”

“You think?”  He looks uncertain.  “Bruce, I don’t want you to feel like you’re being forced to come back.  That’s the last thing I want.”

“No, that’s not…” He breaks away from her, running a hand through his hair.  “These past few months have been amazing, Natasha.  This is the first time that I’ve let myself be _happy_ , for god’s sake.  But… but I think I can do more.”  Bruce straightens up, looking her in the eye.  “I _want_ to do more.  I want to come back.”

Natasha swallows hard.

“Then come back,” she tells him, and he steps into her arms.

* * *

When Wanda all but skips into the Avengers facility the next morning, she’s followed by Natasha and Bruce, walking side-by-side.


End file.
